


These Violent Delights Vol. 1

by sawbones



Series: Kinktober 2016 [1]
Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Episode VII: The Force Awakens (2015)
Genre: Asphyxiation, Bukkake, Creampie, Dirty Talk, Edgeplay, Hard Kylux, Humiliation, Kinktober, Leather, M/M, Size Difference, Spanking, public
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-13
Updated: 2016-10-13
Packaged: 2018-08-21 23:42:54
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 10
Words: 10,068
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8264743
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sawbones/pseuds/sawbones
Summary: The first ten fills for Kinktober 2016. Predominantly hard kylux.





	1. Spanking, 1261, M

**Author's Note:**

> Please see individual chapter titles for prompt, word count, and rating, and chapter notes for summary and warnings.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hux is a proud man, and Kylo knows how best to humiliate him to get what he wants. Noncon spanking.

“You must be joking,” Hux said with a curling sneer, “You want me to redirect an _entire Company_ of men from the midst of an active campaign?”

“I said as much already, General. I don’t care to repeat myself,” Ren said. Even through the vocoder his voice was edged in ice; any other man aboard would have felt its bite, but Hux simply waved him away like he was nought but a particularly persistent fly.

“That’s nearly three hundred troopers. We cannot spare that sort of manpower, not at this stage of the advance, and certainly not so that you can go poking about some mud-hut town on the other side of the system. We need the resources on this moon more pressingly than you need to carry on this ridiculous ghost hunt. You may have use of them after,” Hux adjusted the cuff of his jacket in a faux display of indifference, as though he had settled the matter.

“You seem to be under the impression that I am asking your permission. I am merely doing you the curtesy of letting you know beforehand,” Kylo said. He kept his voice soft, knifing, knowing it worked better to get a rise out of Hux. It worked. Hux pushed himself to his feet with enough force to nearly topple his chair, and placed his hands flat on the table between them.

“Those are my men, Ren—“ he began, blustering, a flush of anger rising in his cheeks.

“ _Our_ men. We are co-commanders after all,” Ren cut across crisply as he also stood up. A muscle in Hux’s jaw twitched, “General, you are being very rude.”

A flicker of confusion passed across the General’s expression, dampening his anger, “Excuse me?”

“Do you know what happens to rude boys?” Ren went on. He began to move around the side of the table, and he could sense Hux’s fight or flight instincts kicking in as he deliberated between skittering away or staying still, hoping to call Kylo’s bluff – but Kylo wasn’t bluffing, and the decision was made for him when Ren raised his hand and invisible bindings clamped down around his chest and throat.

“They get _spanked_.”

Kylo closed his fist and yanked downwards, slamming Hux face first into the desk and keeping his upper body pinned there, his arms trapped and his ass in the air. Immediately, Hux began to struggle violently, and kicked at Kylo with his long legs when he came near. The glancing blows would likely not even bruise him, but Kylo had to admire the tenacity; it was a good quality in a General, and it did make this all the sweeter.

He ran a gloved hand over Hux’s rump, admiring the firm flesh, and then reached around him to undo his trousers, pulling them down around his thighs, causing him to grind out a string of curses that would have made a Weequay blush.

“You disgusting animal,” Hux spat, gathering enough strength to turn his head so he could see Kylo out the corner of his eye. Being slammed against the desk had burst his nose, and the blood smeared across his top lip as he spoke, “You really don’t take no for an answer, do you? You want to show me who’s boss? Oh yes, you’re a real big man, forcing yourself on someone who can’t even fight back.”

“I have no intention of forcing myself on you, General,” Kylo said, and with a twitch of his fingers bound his legs too, “I want to teach you a lesson, one I think you are long overdue.”

“What are you talking about, you b—“

Hux was cut short by the first open-palmed blow to his backside, probably more surprised by the sharp slap of leather on skin than the pain since Kylo had been moderate in his force. His mouth gaped in disbelief, and the sparking fury that rolled off him in waves took on a beautiful hue of humiliation, a shade Kylo thought suited him better than all that black he wore.

“You need to learn how to share,” Kylo said with another slap, “Selfish, spoiled child.”

“ _I’m_ the child? You arrogant brat,” Hux hissed.

“Your mother never did this often, did she? No, it shows,” Kylo stopped to press his hand to the pinkened flesh, and even through his gloves he could feel the heat of it, “Well, allow me to remedy.”

Kylo spanked him again and again, setting up a steady rhythm that gave Hux no quarter. He watched the General’s fingers curl and clench like he was reaching for something with every hit. He counted to twelve strikes before the noises began: thin, bitten-off moans that were forced from between clenched teeth.

“Have you learned any manners yet?” Kylo asked softly, so softly, as he let his hand rest on the small of Hux’s back. The General was trying to keep his composure, but he was a proud, proud man, and Kylo knew the indignity would cut deep, “Do I need to keep going?”

“Fuck you,” Hux said. He sounded close to tears.

“You can stop this any time, you know. Just say the word and I’ll let you go,” Kylo increased the strength behind each smack until both ass cheeks were glowing a shameful red, and the General was squirming, choking back sobs of pain and disgrace.

“Fuck you,” Hux said again, this time louder, his voice cracking. He left a streak of blood and spit on the desk as he shook his head, neat hair all in disarray.

“Say it,” Kylo demanded. He tightened the ghostly bindings around Hux’s chest and neck to the point it would have been nearly impossible to breathe, and felt the General’s panic rise. His fingertips scrabbled uselessly against the smooth surface, trying to reach for his throat even while his arms were trapped.

“Stop!” he gasped, hips canting, muscles spasming. His face was turning as red as his abused backside, “Stop, they’re yours, just stop—“

Kylo let his struggle for a few seconds longer before he released him; even without being held down Hux stayed slumped over the table, bare  ass in the air as he gulped down shaky lungfuls of air.

“That wasn’t so hard, was it?” Kylo asked, and for the briefest moment pressed himself up against the General to let him know exactly how much he had enjoyed their little session. Hux shuddered and tried to twist away from him, hauling his trousers back up with such indignant rage Kylo had to laugh, “Though to be clear, I would have done it either way. I just wanted to hear you say it.”

Hux had no response to that beyond a sneer as he tried to set himself enough in order to leave their meeting room without garnering too much attention. When he made for the door, Kylo grabbed his wrist and pulled him closer one last time; Hux’s disgust was palpable, and Kylo found it intoxicating to hold such physical dominion over the man.

“One thing before you leave, General: if you dare to deny me anything on this ship ever again – and I mean anything – I will hold a repeat performance of this on the bridge in front of your entire command staff, and there’s not a thing you could do to stop me. Do you understand?”

Hux bared his bloody teeth and yanked his arm from Kylo’s grip. He couldn’t even stand to meet his eye as he stormed out of the room. Kylo took that to mean yes.


	2. Dirty Talk, 913, E

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hux has some bizarre ideas about what construes as dirty talk; Kylo's into it. References to starvation and sexual slavery.

Kylo closed his eyes as he took Hux into his mouth, rolling his tongue as he swallowed him down. With his hands bound behind his back, he had to rely on the fist in his hair to guide him. He had no control over the depth, no control over the pace – in fact, he was little more than a warm wet hole to be fucked, and it was perfect. He cleared his mind of all the noise and clutter of the day, and focused in simply breathing around the cock being pressed down his throat.

Hux made a thoughtful noise somewhere above him; it was the closest thing to praise Kylo was going to get, but it was enough to make the colour rise in his cheeks and his cock stiffen in his leggings. He wanted to be used; this was better than any meditation to leave him feeling calm, settled, no longer pulled between several points. He tried to pour his gratitude out through the tip of his tongue as he lapped and teased Hux’s sensitive head, but he was pushed down again, finesse forsaken for the spasming heat of his throat.

“Did you know that a man can survive up to twenty-five weeks without food?” Hux said, sounding devastatingly blasé for a man who was presently choking a Knight of Ren with his cock, “Twelve weeks is the average, really, but twenty-five is the record.”

Even if Kylo could have responded, he wouldn’t have. It wasn’t unusual for Hux to say bizarre things in their more intimate moments and Kylo’s input was rarely required. He assumed Hux just liked to hear himself talk, particularly if his daily morale speeches were any indication.

“Do you think you could stave off starvation on a diet of cum alone? Its calorific value is negligible but it is comparatively rich in proteins and vitamins, all things considered,” Hux went on. He loosened his grip on Kylo’s hair and gently scratched his scalp like one might with an overgrown pet. Kylo hated how it made him shiver, “What do you think of that? Sucking me off three, four times a day, just to survive. I bet that sounds like paradise to a needy little slut like you.”

Kylo only frowned in response. He redoubled his efforts in the hope he’d throw Hux off whatever trail of thoughts he was following. He didn’t want to think, he just wanted to _do_.

“I’d keep you chained to the end of my bed, on your knees like you are now. Where you belong. I’d feed you nothing but water and my cock, once in the morning, once in the evening,” Hux said. He paused for a moment, and even with his eyes closed Kylo could tell he had wet his lips, “It wouldn’t be enough – kriff, its barely enough for you now, but you’d be so hungry for it. They say you stop feeling the hunger after the first week or so, but it wouldn’t be like that for you. You’d beg for it every time I stepped in the room, you’d cry for me to come and feed you every break, every lunch time. You’d ache for it, you wouldn’t be able to think about anything else.”

Kylo tried to block it out, he really did, but he couldn’t. He really would be nothing more than a fuck toy then, some pathetic little creature at the end of the robe. The image of it made his chest feel tight in a way that scared him.

“I know what you’re thinking: you’re thinking, _but Hux_ , I already beg you to fuck me over lunch. I already ache for it, it’s already all I think about,” Hux said, and he was starting to sound slightly breathless, “I know, I know, but this time it would be different. This time, you’d need it just to live. Would you do that? Would you grovel for every drop of my cum in your disgusting mouth?”

Kylo made a single helpless noise in the back of his throat, because Hux was still stretching his jaw, still cutting off his airways. Stars, he _would_ , he would beg for it. He would swallow it all, he’d never spill a drop, he’d be so good like it was the only thing he was made for, and perhaps it really was.

“Then do it,” Hux pulled Kylo off his cock, leaving him panting and teary eyed with spit slicking his chin, “Beg for it.”

“Please,” Kylo said immediately. His voice was low, raspy, and even the dimmed light of Hux’s quarters stung his eyes as he blinked up at him, “Please, General. Please—“

“Please what? Use your words, I know you’re not as gormless as you look,” Hux said with a tug at his hair.

“Please cum in my mouth,” Kylo said, barely able to force the words out around the mortification filling his throat, “I need it, I’m so hungry and I—I’m starving, _please_ , General—“

Hux made a shushing noise, tilting Kylo’s head back, pushing a thumb into his mouth to force it open wider as he stroked himself off with his other hand. Kylo screwed his eyes closed again, hot tears welling up and threatening to spill over as the first bitter shot hit his tongue. He swallowed it down greedily, drinking everything Hux had to give him, and true to form, he didn’t spill a drop.

Hux was right: it wasn’t enough.


	3. Public, 1178, E

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Front this kyluxhardkinks prompt: "Kylux + train molester trope? Kylo spots a hot redhead on a very crowded subway during rush hour and cant keep his hands off him. Hux thinks all the rubbing/touching is just from random people bumping into him as expected of such a crowded train until a hand from behind reaches to his front…"
> 
> Warning for sexual assault, verbal abuse, implied stalking. Dead dove do not eat.

 It was rush hour, and the subway carriage was so packed with weary commuters that even with all the jolts and jerks of the train, it wasn’t necessary to find a pole or hanging hand-hold to cling to: you couldn’t fall over. There was quite simply nowhere to go, at worst you’d lean against the person next to you, who was already close enough to smell what you had for lunch.

Fully aware of that fact, Hux still guarded his space by the pole with a possessiveness that bordered on violence. It was _prime subway real estate_ : close enough to the door that he wouldn’t get trapped in the crush and miss his stop, and the metal meant that there was a precious few inches of space that wasn’t crushed up again another warm body. Small victories. Hux took them where he could, and wasn’t afraid to defend them with his elbows.

It was already stifling in the carriage. Each time the doors opened, everyone inside swayed towards those twenty seconds of semi-fresh air like flowers to the sun. Hux kept his back to them. He liked the lukewarm breeze on the sliver of skin between his stiff collar and dampening hairline. He also liked not having to make accidental eye contact with every other pleb crushing in or squeezing out.

What he wasn’t so fond of, however, was the last wave of commuters bringing with it one person in particular who seemed insistent on practically moulding themselves to Hux’s back from hip to chest. Hux tried to lean away with every bump and shift; he knew it was crowded but _really_ , was that necessary? He gave an irritated sighed, so exaggerated that no-one but the densest tourist could miss the meaning.

The man (assumed man, anyway, because they were taller than Hux and Hux was not waif by any means) didn’t move back. A hand moved down the pole to brush over Hux’s white knuckles, and he became at once aware of a second hand, settled on his hip.

Hux’s stiffened and he half turned with acid on his tongue, ready to scold whatever pickpocket was risking his fingers trying to lift his wallet.

“Don’t. Don’t turn around, don’t make a scene,” a voice said, right by his ear, soft and deep like sinking sand, too quiet for anyone but Hux to hear, “If you do, I’m going to make sure the next time you get off this train, I’ll be waiting for you. I promise you’ll like that a lot less than you’ll like this. Nod once if you understand.”

Every cutting remark Hux had ready withered and died in his throat. He swallowed around them thickly, and found his mouth had gone dry. _This is a robbery_ , he told himself as the hand on his hip slid round to cup his arse, and ignored the half-desperate, half-indignant reply that said: _no, it really fucking isn’t_. He didn’t understand – perhaps willingly – but he nodded anyway.

He could practically feel the stranger’s smile curl against his ear, and he nearly crawled out of his skin. He tried to keep his face neutral and his back straight as he stared straight ahead like he absolutely was not being groped by some creature on the Eastbound home, but he was pushing through the confusion and emerging into anger on the other side. How dare this person put their hands on him.

Hux took a sharp breath. He could just start shouting, and see what would happen. Maybe get a few elbow jabs in; he had heard somewhere that the elbow was the hardest part of a person’s body – well, second hardest, if the cock rubbing against the small of his back was anything to judge by. It occurred to him it might be a good idea to contact the transport police. There was even a number he could text rather than call, for the sake of subtly. He reached into his pocket when suddenly his arm was wrenched behind him, twisted half way up his back hard enough to make Hux gasp in pain.

Several people nearby glanced at him, then pointedly looked away.

“That was a stupid move for someone who looks so smart,” the voice said with another squeeze on Hux’s wrist for emphasis, “What, don’t you believe me? I know where you get on. I know where you get off. Maybe I know _you_. I found you here, didn’t I?”

He was bluffing. Jesus Christ, he had to be bluffing, Hux couldn’t entertain the other possibility. He went limp in the man’s grip before his wrist was broken; he was scared now. His arm was released and the free hand slid around his waist to cup his cock through the front of his suit trousers, and Hux had to clench his teeth to cut short the shameful noise that pulled from him.

No-one was looking now. Somehow that was worse than having every pair of eyes in carriage on him. They weren’t indifferent, or scared, they were _embarrassed_.

“You’re so fucking pretty, you know that? You hair really stands out in a crowd. I can see you from a mile away,” the stranger went on, still grinding again Hux, still caressing him. He kissed his ear, teeth grazing over the lobe and sending a full-body shiver through Hux, “I’m sorry if I’m scaring you. You just looked so good today.”

Hux bit on his tongue so hard he thought he would draw blood. He was getting hard. He couldn’t help it, between those strong fingers groping him and the voice, the threats, the idea that someone might—god, no, even if he had fantasized about a handsome anonymous stranger who was a little too rough—oh, it might even have felt good.

“This was why I picked you though. I knew you’d be a _slut_ ,” the word was punctuated with a particularly hard thrust that pushed a moan out of Hux, “What sort of person gets off on this? You haven’t even seen my face and you’re already spreading your legs for me in front of all these people. I could fuck you like this. It’s not like anyone would stop me—least of all you.”

“Stop,” Hux managed to grit out between his fingers. He was already so close from just _this_ , and he hated himself for it.

“No,” the stranger said, so soft, so insistent, “You don’t want me to.”

It only took a few more rough squeezes before Hux was cumming, knees shaking, trousers ruined. For a horrible moment he felt tears well up, and he thought he would cry; somehow that would be worse than the whole ordeal. The man behind him simply laughed and kissed the back of his neck so sweetly, like a lover might. He didn’t say anything for the rest of the short journey, and when the next stop came, Hux lost him in the jostling crowd, and was left red-faced and feeling filth.

Hux gripped onto his pole for dear life. Tomorrow, he was getting a taxi.


	4. Bukakke, Kylo/KoR, 1005, M

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Knights of Ren share a special bond, and there are many ways to strengthen it. Abstract gangbang through time and space.

Kylo often wondered if the Knights of Ren were the last things in the galaxy he could think of as truly his. He felt the rest carved away slice by slice, all the while he raged against it: even his past belonged to someone else. But the Knights were different.

There had been other Masters before him; there would be other Masters after him, but in that moment they were his, and he was theirs. Snoke might have brought them together, but they had _chosen_ him, and with the choice Kylo had been woven into something unknown and unfathomably beautiful. He had felt wanted, perhaps for the first time in his life.

The connection they forged felt effortless, like the perfect circle of an endlessly turning wheel. It was said the Force flowed through everything, and so they became like conduits, channelling it from one Knight to another until parts of themselves were inexorably entwined with each other. This bond strengthened them as individuals, and as a group. It meant they were better in synch with each other, able to move and think and communicate much more effectively, both on the field and off it.

At its peak, they could even share physical sensations: the phantom warmth of a sunset on a planet on the other side of the system, the cleansing pain of a wound, the pleasure of hands ghosting beneath robes and under helmets. Together, or a thousand parsecs apart, they were never truly alone any more.

There were many ways to create and strength a bond like that: some sacred, secret, pulling on ancient threads of power and knowledge, arcane rituals meant to sheer off parts of the self like ice from a crumbling glacier, leaving space to be filled by another. Kylo had memories that he had never lived, thoughts he had never thought, feelings he had never felt. He’d been in love, but he had never. He had a child, but he didn’t. Once, he realised how much he preferred red, when his favourite colour had always been blue.

Hunting together, killing together, that was another way: using their connection to move and stalk and strike as one. Living for each other, killing for each other, borrow and lending the power to do it. The more they pulled it, the more elastic the bond became, more resilient, more flexible. The heat kept it supple, the blood made it soft.

Kylo’s favourite method was simple _intimacy_. It wasn’t arcane but it was still a ritual in its own right; it wasn’t slaughter but the violence of it could still knock Kylo off his feet. It didn’t have to be sexual – it didn’t even have to be physical - any moment of contact worked, if a hand was offered and a hand was taken.

It was there when Kuna Ren showed him how to stabilise a lightsabre with a cracked kyber crystal; Kuna Ren, of indeterminate species, indeterminate gender, indeterminate age, who moved through the world with a sort of child-like wonder, and who took things (and sometimes people) apart just to put them back together again. The had lost two fingers in some sort of experiment before Kylo had come to the Knights, and had since lost several more to their own knife, each replaced by something chrome, something better, something artificial and yet somehow feeling much more like theirs than their own flesh had. Their curiosity and creativity edged Kylo’s world in colours he had never seen before.

It was there when Kylo had sat bare-chested in their ship, head to his knees as Illyn Ren had slowly and methodically stitched up a wicked gash that stretched from shoulder to waist. It wasn’t in their way to use droids and medtech, they had to rely on each other for healing; no meds, no painkillers, nothing but gritted teeth and a needle and thread. The pain was encouraged, supposedly cleansing, but Illyn had handled him so carefully, so gently, with more tenderness that he had even been touched before. Kylo had wept because of it, and Illyn had kissed a constellation across his back. He had cut his own tongue out in protest years ago on some cold and distant snow-bound homeworld, back when those things had mattered, and so he could only sooth him through the Force, flattening the flashbang of emotion with a coaxing, crushing will that could move mountains. Kylo leant on his control when he thought he might lose his own.

It was there when Riktor Ren had opened a man from cock to gullet simply for refusing to kneel at Kylo’s request. The flash of heat – from the weapon, from the glut of blood that spilled steaming onto the snow at his feet, from Riktor himself – had nearly scorched Kylo. Riktor would kill for him. Riktor would die for him – for any of them, really. His blood ran the hottest, and his Force ran the darkest, his love and devotion threaded through with a possessive madness that bound them all together. Kylo drank from that poisoned well when his own rage was not enough to reap worlds.

But it was most keenly felt in the nights when Kylo fell asleep in a knot of warm bodies and woke up to hands on him, around him, in him. It didn’t matter who was there – one Knight, six Knights, in his bed or a world away – it felt the same; if they were a wheel then Kylo was the hub, and everything they felt moved through him, a conductor in the conduit. A kiss on his chest, and the solar flare of lust. Legs tangled with his, and the need for reassurance. His hands on someone’s neck, and the rock-steady feeling of possession it brought. He arched his back and opened his mouth, felt cum splash his lips, his back, his stomach – not degrading, not claiming, but an outpouring of love and literal life-force.

It didn’t come from him, but it _belonged_ to him, just like his Knights.


	5. Humiliation, 1204, M

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kylo follows through on the promise he made in "Spanking". More noncon spanking, featuring Mitaka.

When Kylo came onto the bridge like a charging bull, Hux knew immediately what was going to happen. He could feel the anger, the intention, and indeed the acid-sharp _anticipation_ rolling down the walkway towards him like a storm sweeping in, caught in the folds of Ren’s graceless robes. They had been circling each other for a while, sizing each other up like prize stags in rut, waiting for someone to make the first aggressive move. Ren had threatened to assault him again if he ever tried to deny him anything, _on the bridge in front of your entire command staff and there’s not a thing you could do to stop me,_ but Hux would damned if he was going to let some overgrown brutish child cow him on his own ship. If Ren had to result to using his fists like he was some fuel-huffing dock thug, then he would take the hit and come away the bigger man.

Or so that’s what Hux had told himself. It had become like a mantra of sorts, like a ward or a spell every time Ren had come too close.

He had managed to convince himself that Ren wouldn’t _dare_. In the face of recent developments, that had been a very poor move.

It wasn’t _fists_ Ren used.

“Ren—“ Hux spat, baring his teeth as he turned and squared himself up. Shoulders pulled, chest open, hands clasped at the small of his back; for all appearances, he was the immovable object to Kylo’s unstoppable Force.

“I warned you, General,” he said as he lumbered up the short steps to Hux’s observation platform, “That’s more than most people get.”

“You can’t just tear through this ship. There will be consequences, Ren,” Hux said, trying his absolute best to sound cold and dangerous, and not flinch away from the Knight’s advance.

“Consequences, yes. I promised as much,” Ren said. He did not stop when he reached Hux, instead grabbing him by the upper arms and manhandling him against the nearest console.

A dozen officers on the bridge who had been carefully ignoring what they probably assumed was another butting of heads suddenly tuned in; a few got to their feet, ready to intervene. Unamo had her blaster drawn, though not levelled. She probably knew if she fired a single bolt, she would not survive.

“Stand down. Return to your duties,” Hux said. He voice was strained, and he could already see a sheen of sweat on his brow in the indistinct reflection of Ren’s visor. His officers did as they were ordered, though the atmosphere in the room was like a tinderbox. He lifted his chin in defiance, “Well, what are you waiting for, Ren?”

“So much bravado, General. Do you think I can’t see through it?” Ren said as he roughly turned Hux away from him, and pushed him down so that his cheek was crushed again a bank of blinking buttons, “You think a stiff upper lip will save face in front of your men, but it won’t. You know it won’t. I can smell the shame on you already.”

Ren buried his face into the crook of Hux’s neck where his collar met skin and breathed him in as he reached around to undo his trousers and pull them down, along with his briefs. He didn’t have to use the Force to keep him in place that time; Hux kept his forehead to the console, his hands balled into fists, his legs spread. He wouldn't give Ren the kriffing satisfaction of seeing him struggle.

“That’s it; cling on to your dignity. Feel it slip through your fingers like smoke,” Kylo said as he ran his hands over Hux’s exposed behind. There was less violence in his touch than the first time he had assaulted him in their meeting room, and that made Hux want to crawl right out of his skin. When the first blow came, it was almost a relief.

At that sound – that sharp whip-crack snap of leather on skin – it was as though someone had opened an airlock; all the oxygen was sucked out of the room. The second spank could have echoed in the silence around the bridge. Hux clenched his jaw so hard his teeth were in danger, because he would rather die than make a single noise.

“Did you think I was bluffing when I said this would happen?” Ren asked almost conversationally as he laid a third spank across the same spot, making the General twitch in stinging discomfort. He was loud enough that all nearby staff could overhear, and that was not an accident, “Or did you just enjoy the first time so much you were counting on it?”

Hux didn’t respond. He turned his head to hide his burning face in the crook of his arm. Ren would get bored once he’d had his fun.

“Were you hoping for the chance to get your pretty pink ass out for everyone to come and see? You could blame it on me, pretend like you didn’t want this—you must want it, I mean there’s no other reason I can think of as to why you would disobey such a simple order,” Ren went on. Another spank, a little harder than the rest, enough to make Hux arch away, his brow furrowed in pain, “But why stop there? Why not have them join in? They can really get the best view of your tight little hole that way.”

A leatherclad thumb dragged over his entrance and Hux tried to wrench himself upright again with a snarl, only to be forced back down by a hand on his neck. His façade of composure was fracturing, flaking; his legs were shaking and his stomach roiled and clenched, “Don’t.”

“You. Come here,” Ren said, evidently choosing to ignore Hux at that moment to address one of the officers. From his position, Hux couldn’t see who. He didn’t know if he wanted to, “Not there. Here. Now spank him.”

‘—Sir?”

Mitaka. Of course it was kriffing Mitaka. Hux thought he was going to vomit.

“Don’t make me _repeat_ myself.”

There was a moment of hesitation – a split second, really—before Hux was struck again, this time with a bare palm, notably smaller and weaker than Ren’s obscene paws but still enough to sting. Mitaka made an ugly noise with each hit like he was choking, and Hux didn’t want to imagine he could be crying even as his own tears dampened the sleeve of his jacket.

“Stop it,” he forced out, trying and failing to keep his voice level. His backside felt raw and hot, as did his face, his throat, “Ren, stop.”

There was a rustle of robes, a dry crackle of laughter through the vocoder, “What do you think, Lieutenant? Is his ass just the right shade of pink, or shall we keep going?”

A wet sniff from Mitaka, “It’s just—it’s just right, sir.”

“Very well. That’s enough for one day,” Ren said. He had the nerve to pull Hux’s briefs back up for him, and somehow that just added insult to injury. He patted his abused cheeks fondly, “Until the next time you disrespect me.”


	6. Size Difference, 538, M

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Size difference is more than height - and sometimes more than physical.

All things considered, the difference in height between them was essentially negligible: a couple of inches, really. Kylo’s helm and hood added a little extra but Hux knew better. In fact, Hux knew better than better, he knew _best_. He knew every foot, every centimetre, every acre of Kylo’s broad body. He probably knew it better than he knew his own body (he had never seen the back of his own knees; he imagined they were as bland and pale as the rest of him). He knew him by sight, by touch, by scent, perhaps even taste if he really concentrated (so many poets across the stars have waxed lyrical about their lover’s unique taste, but if Hux was being very honest, sweat was sweat, cum was cum, and from a purely _gustatory_ point of view, one warm body was as good as another).

While their heights were similar – and oh how Hux had measured and double measured, over, under, and laid out alongside Kylo – that was not to say they lacked size difference, only that the size difference was as much a shape difference as anything else. A silhouette difference. A difference in volume, presence, how they occupied the space they were in. It even extended to their clothes; Hux in his tailored uniform, pushed out at the shoulders, the thighs, all structure and beautiful clean lines; Ren in his ratty robes, the formless shape and the cinched waist, and the secret slutty half-slip of mesh he wore underneath, a whisper of something that could hardly be called fabric worn for no practical reason.

Hux wasn’t a small man – he really wasn’t, not since he was a young teen and had stretched like cheap elastic over a matter of months. He had always been on the lean side, but he had passed his combat training with relative ease, and kept up to date with his physical training. He preferred to think himself as _neat_ , rather than slim. Tidy. Elegant. Well turned out, if not somewhat unremarkable.

Kylo, however – Kylo’s body was reckless. He was an avalanche on legs, broad from shoulder to hip, somehow long in torso _and_ leg. He moved like the seas would part for him, all power, no control. Arms like knotted ropes, chest like a mountainside. Hux wouldn’t have been at all surprised if he ever found out the man was not full-blooded human; the idea of it had a certain appeal to it. Kylo had a certain appeal to him.

It was an appeal that was never more keenly felt than when he was spread out under Hux like a felled bear, a hunting trophy, eyes soft, mouth slack. His chest heaved, every breath a landslide, every restless shift a devastating earthquake. He was so pliant then, with fingers around his neck or in his mouth, on him or in him, pinched and pulled apart. He could have killed Hux with his hands, or a thought; he could have diced him into a dozen little pieces with that ridiculous sword, but he didn’t. All that power, and he folded under Hux like a slip of paper.

Hux never felt bigger than when he held Kylo Ren in the palm of his hand.


	7. Creampie, 1060, E

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Pregnancy/breeding kink + aloof Hux + service top Ren + light bondage + dirty talk. Very mild blood warning.

“It is an empirical fact that the lifeblood of any empire, any civilization – indeed, any great monument of mankind – is its youth. It may be overplayed by every second-rate politician on every second-rate lump of rock in the galaxy, but there is truth in the saying _our children are our future_ , and it is up to us to build that future, for the sake of the Order and all that may come after us,” Hux paused mid-stride in his circuit of the room. He turned to look at Ren as he undid the buttons of his uniform jacket, “Do you understand?”

Ren said nothing, partly because of the twist of cloth shoved in his mouth, partly because he had nothing to say. He flexed against the wire chord that bound his wrists to the headboard, testing for slack and finding none.

“You’ve got to understand it was all a lie, this whole business with Snoke. He chose you, yes – but he didn’t choose you to be his _apprentice_ ,” Hux continued, brusquely moving on to his crisp white shirt, “He chose you to stud.”

Ren exhaled sharply through his nose, watching Hux from beneath his brows. The General undressed himself quickly and without flourish, like he was going through a shift hand-over briefing and not—well, whatever the kriff this was supposed to be. He looked at Ren as though he was simply another piece of paperwork to be done; Ren’s cock twitched at the heady contrast between the implications of his words and his business-like attitude.

“He’s groomed you for years, Ren, making sure you would be viable. Making sure we would be compatible,” Hux was fully undressed by that point, shameless in his skin as he knelt at the foot of his bed and lightly put his hands on Ren’s ankles. He briefly considered kicking him off, but when those fingers began to slowly glide up the back of his claves, Ren couldn’t help but part his legs a little wider, “Physically compatible, of course. Personal differences are inconsequential.”

Hux shuffled up the bed a little further before he settled down to straddle Ren’s thighs. He was not yet hard, but Ren was, and when Hux reached across to the bedside table to collect a small bottle of lube and pair of latex gloves, he moaned around his gag like a whore. If Hux noticed, he chose not to say anything.

“Can you imagine the children borne of us? With my mind, my control; your strength, your power. They would be unstoppable, Ren. _We_ would be unstoppable.”

Ren’s fingers curled uselessly in the empty air above his head as Hux snapped on the gloves and poured a little lube onto his palm; he had nothing to hold onto, not even himself. The slick was a cool shock when Hux took a hold of his cock and started stroking it, but it still felt dangerously good.

“You’re going to breed me, Ren,” Hux said, and with his free hand he reached between his own legs to prepare himself while still stroking Ren. Ruthlessly efficient, yes, but Ren didn’t miss that first flush of heat creeping into Hux’s cheeks, or the way his thighs tense at the first intrusion of two slick fingers, “Are you ready?”

Ren gave a single nod, and it was enough. With the gloves still on, Hux moved up, rearranging himself so that Ren’s cock nudged against his entrance. He seemed to be waiting for something, savouring the moment, before he slowly rocked down onto Ren, all the while holding his gaze in a grey-green vice.

“You’re going to breed me,” Hux said again, his brow contracting as he began to shift- tentatively at first, a little stiff, his palms flat against Ren’s chest for balance. The was an edge to it this time: concern, maybe surprise, and Ren briefly wondered if Hux had ever done this before, “You’re going to put a child in me, a child for the First Order.”

Ren’s arms ached from being tied in position for so long, his shoulders burned and he was losing feeling in his fingertips from the chord arounds his wrists – but he couldn’t feel any of it. It all faded into background noise as Hux rode him, tight-hot, shifting-slick. He tried to roll his hips to pick up the rhythm, but Hux’s blunt nails dug into his chest through the latex in silent warning.

“Cum in me, but only when I say so. That way I can be sure—“ Hux cut himself off with a breathless, strangled moan, his head bowed. The flush in his cheeks had flooded down his neck, his chest. His lips were wet from where he had bitten them; Ren bit down on his rag and wished he could kiss him, “That way I can be sure it takes.”

Hux was riding him properly at that point, all hesitation forgotten with his thighs clamped around Ren’s hips. He was hunched forward for a better angle, their faces so close that Ren could feel every short huff of breath on his face as Hux tried to smother the noises he fucked from himself. Ren wasn’t half so demure: the gag did little to quieten him - he wanted Hux to _know._

“Nearly there. So close. Are you ready to fill me up, Ren?” Hux said, his nose brushing Ren’s cheek as he spoke. Ren didn’t have to say a thing, Hux already knew how close he was, he had to, “Do it. Cum in me. Cum in me now, Ren.”

The command felt like someone had jerked on a chain around his neck, and Ren had to choice but to submit. He reached his peak in time with Hux, who came with his cock trapped between their stomachs while Ren finished inside of him, buried to the hilt. It was beautiful and reckless, driven by flashpoint images of Hux, swollen with seed, swollen with child, his child, _their_ child.

It took him a moment to realise that in his thrashing, he’d pulled so hard on his bindings that the wire had cut into his wrists; blood ran in sluggish thin rivulets down his forearms. Hux noticed, and sat up slowly with Ren still inside of him. He smiled in a worryingly ambivalent way,

“Fresh blood for a new dawn,” he said, “How fitting.”


	8. Leather, 1058, E

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hux goes out for a spontaneous day's riding. He comes back to find someone waiting in the stables for him. Semi-public, whipping, very mild CBT. Technically set somewhere between Chapter 2 & 3 of [Sic Semper Tyrannis](http://archiveofourown.org/works/7602121/chapters/17301157) but can be read on its own.

Like the house and indeed most of the grounds, Kylo found the stables to be in a state of grave neglect, yet still fit for purpose. They were small, cluttered with equipment, and capable of housing six horses only. At that time, it was full to capacity; four carriage horses and two single riders for running messages down the mountain. It was one such sure-footed mount that the General had taken out, and was presently untacking.

“I wasn’t aware you could ride,” Kylo said. He stood at a safe distance beyond the stall door, content to watch. More than content, actually; Hux looked utterly ruinous in his riding gear. In lieu of his uniform, he wore a pair of form-fitting doeskin riding britches and a tall-collared red jacket cut high on his hips and pulled in neat at the waist. With it, he had tall black boots that clung to every curve of his well-turned legs, and gloves to match. His cheeks were flushed red from the wind, and his hair dishevelled by the very same.

Kylo felt a shade of guilt, as though he was seeing something he wasn’t allowed: Hux in any state less than perfect – as if such a thing was possible.

“It seems there are a great many things that escape your awareness, Ren,” Hux said blithely, not even caring to glance up from where he was hanging his bridle and bits. He settled his saddle over the side of the stall and hung up the short crop he had been carrying, “Pray tell, is there a reason you are lurking here with the horses? I happen to _know_ you don’t ride.”

“You were gone for a while,” Kylo said. His gaze lingered on the riding crop where it gently swung on its hook. It reminded him of the wicked dog-whip Hux kept in his room, the one he had bought just for _him_.

“And you missed me so woefully, you had to come seek me out?” Hux turned and cocked a sly, sharp brow.

“I thought it was possible something had happened,” Kylo said, perhaps more defensively than he intended, “The mountain is crawling with rebels, and shaking itself to pieces with landslides.”

“Your concern is touching. Really,” Hux said. He took a step closer, carefully adjusting his gloves with a flex of his fine fingers, “Was there something else you wanted?”

Kylo nearly flinched away from the advance, and he looked aside and held his tongue. He had been waiting for Hux for an embarrassing amount of time; he knew not what else to do when he left other than wait obediently and without patience for his return. There was nothing on the mountain for him but Hux, and well the General knew that. He laughed at Kylo’s incriminating silence.

“I said—“ Hux plucked the crop from its hook as he stalked towards Kylo, lips twisted in a terrible smile. With one push from the palm of his hand, he sent Kylo staggering backwards; the back of his knees hit a bale of straw, and he crumpled onto it. With a creak of leather, Hux lifted one foot and brought it to rest right on Kylo’s cock, half-stiff in his trousers. Kylo bit back a shameful whimper, “—was there something else you wanted?”

Kylo thought for sure he had swallowed his tongue, for all powers of speech left him in that moment. What demon did he deal with for this sweet prize, this blessed boon? Hux himself, quite likely; he was no devil in disguise, since he wore his horns so brazenly—and didn’t they suit him well. Hux smiled, a sliver of glass that worked its way beneath Kylo’s skin as he traced his jaw with the soft leather tab of the crop.

“Had enough of the dog-whip already? You fancy yourself a beast of burden and not a hound; now you wish for a taste of my crop instead,” Hux said. He brought the crop’s keeper to his mouth, and Kylo parted his lips for the leather tongue. He kissed it, lapped at it, swallowed the salt tang of the soft hide with the sort of reverence such a fine tool in such a fine hand deserved, “Well, I do admit you make a good _mount_.”

Hux drew back and struck Kylo clean across the face with such a force that he didn’t feel it at first; a sort of numb impact before the bloom of burning, cutting pain that made him crying out. It brought to mind the first night Hux had raised his hand to him, when he had struck him in such a similar manner and had stopped, fearful he had injured him. There was no such hesitation then in the stables; Hux struck him twice again, bringing forth a whimper from Kylo. Oh heaven, oh hell, what a change!

Hux pressed harder with his boot, and Kylo could hardly stand it. He squirmed and whined in such a pathetic manner, Hux whipped him again, this time on his chest where his thin shirt afforded him no mercy.

“Please, General,” he sighed, blinking away the tears, “Please, if I am your horse—“

“Then ride you?” Hux finished for him. He ground his heel down like he was extinguishing a dropped cigarette, “Absolutely not, you filthy, needy little child. You can get off on the sole of my boots and be grateful for it.”

Kylo bit his tongue and nodded. He was grateful, truly he was. He could hardly believe Hux had allowed him even that much – and business with the crop too! What luck, what love, what lashes. If Kylo had been any bolder, he might have wrapped his hands around Hux’s ankle to gain more traction, but he did not dare; he grabbed fistfuls of prickling, dry straw and only dreamed of the smooth, warm black leather against his skin. He was already so close, edging on the line of heavy, heady pleasure-pain, and that was enough to push him over the edge. Kylo choked back a sob as he came in his trousers, his back arching off the bale. Hux only gave him a second to recover before he tapped him lightly on the cheek with the crop.

“Come on, you beast. Get up and get out, before you spook my horses.”


	9. Asphyxiation, 822, E

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hux wants Kylo to sit on his face. Face sitting, rimming, probably the softest Kylux I've ever written.

“Come here,” Hux said with a lazy curl of his finger, “Sit on my face.”

Kylo shifted in his spot at the end of the bed, “I’m too heavy. You won’t be able to breathe.”

Hux smiled. There was something so satisfying about a man of that size, that power, threaded with uncertainty, “That’s half the point. Let me eat my way to your heart, I’ll let you know if it gets too much.”

There was a moment’s hesitation before Kylo began to move, crawling up the bed. Hux knew he would; Kylo would do anything he was told if it meant getting hands on him. He framed Hux’s face with his thick thighs and blinked down at him, “Like this?”

It was a nice view, Hux could admit that much: a lot of cock, inches from his face, and the firm swell of Kylo’s belly above it. He patted one of the meaty thighs, “Turn around, face the other way. Show me your cute little hole.”

“Shut up,” Kylo muttered, but still complied. He was careful not to knee Hux in the face as he awkwardly turned around (not that Hux would have really minded – he’d had worse from Kylo before); he held himself stiffly over Hux’s chest like he was afraid to bare any weight on him. He glanced over his shoulder, his dark hair curtaining his face from view, “Like this?”

“Nearly,” Hux said. He used his thumbs to spread Kylo’s cheeks, and bit his lip in anticipation. Being presented with such an intimate part of someone had the same soft giddiness about it as being told a secret. He loved that part of Kylo, a little fingerprint of dusky brown-pink. It was probably the only thing ‘cute’ or ‘little’ about him, “Back up, let me taste you. Don’t be afraid to put your weight on me.”

Kylo leaned back, reaching behind him to grab the headboard for support. Hux made a pleased noise as he pressed his face forward to meet him, tongue darting out to push against his hole with hunger. He began with leisurely broad strokes with the flat of his tongue, and felt Kylo tense up with each lap. He squeezed Kylo’s hips in gentle encouragement to relax, and settle more weight on his face. He wanted it. He could take it. It was a beautiful thing to be surrounded and smothered by acres of warm skin and shifting muscle, crushed into the pillows until his world narrowed down to Kylo and nothing more.

It didn’t take long for Kylo to relax and loosen up enough for Hux to edge his tongue inside of him, especially with how sloppy he kept it. He had only just begun and already his face was half-slick with spit. Kylo moaned at the intrusion, his back arching as he began to rock himself against Hux’s face, and with each movement it became a little harder for Hux to catch his breath with his nose and mouth pressed flush to flesh.

Hux moaned into Kylo; the lack of oxygen made his head throb and his cock ache, he could feel his heartbeat in every part of his body. If he could speak he would ask Kylo to stroke him off, but he couldn’t bear to nudge him away for long enough to ask. He could picture him, eyes closed, head tossed back, oblivious to everything but his own pleasure. He was so lost to it, he probably would suffocate Hux if he didn’t stop him, though Hux couldn’t think of a better way to die.

Kylo was moaning his name, though Hux could hardly hear it over the steady pounding of blood in his head. His lungs were burning, he felt like he might burst, so he redoubled his efforts, messily teasing and licking until Kylo’s legs were shaking and not just from the strain of his position. He dug his fingers into to thighs clamped around his face and thrust his tongue as far as he could, and with that Kylo came with a shout, spilling across Hux’s fluttering stomach.

Kylo went limp, quivering as the tension gradually bled from him and he sagged against Hux’s mouth. With lights dancing behind his closed eyes, Hux made a small noise of alarm and tapped Kylo twice on the ass. He quickly got up again, allowing Hux to choke down a wet lungful of air.

“You okay?” Kylo asked sheepishly, leaning far forward so that he had to peer under his own arm to see Hux.

“No,” Hux rasped, and Kylo got off him properly. His face was creased in genuine concern until Hux laughed. He swatted him on the arm, “Just toss me in the airlock and space me. You’ve killed me.”

“Shut up,” Kylo said again, with no malice in his voice. He leaned over Hux like he was considering kissing him, then frowned, “Disgusting. Go wash your face.”


	10. Edgeplay, 1043, T

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Edgeplay, as in: playing with the edge of a straight razor in this case. Hux shaves a scruffy (and deeply uncomfortable) Kylo. Set in the final (and currently unpublished) chapter of Sic Semper Tyrannis.

Even with his eyes closed, Kylo knew Hux was watching him. It was a subtle change in the air, like a focusing beam of light, or standing too close to an exposed wire. He tried to ignore it, and hoped that if he appeared to still be asleep, Hux would be less prompt in kicking him out. He always felt a creeping guilt on those rare occasions when he took advantage of Hux being too tired or too tipsy to send him away the night before; Kylo knew he would do so otherwise, but he reasoned it wasn’t disobedience if there was no command to disobey.

“I know you do not sleep,” Hux said, “I can hear you thinking.”

Kylo blinked ‘awake’ with a sheepish pull of his lips. Hux was lying on his back, one arm behind his head; he was watching Kylo with a sort of detached air of disinterest, but he still felt scrutinized.

“Go run a bath,” Hux said.

Kylo got up and began to gather up the clothes he had been wearing the night before. He was gently pleased that while he had been ordered out of the bed, he had been allowed to remain in the apartment a little while longer.

“Would you like salts or oils this morning?” he asked, shirt in hand. Hux frowned.

“It’s not for me,” he said, “Have you not looked in a mirror lately? You look awful. How am I supposed to be seen out in public with you?”

Kylo didn’t know how to respond at first. Indeed he hadn’t seen himself in a mirror for quite some time: he had never cared much for his appearance, and it had all seemed even more insignificant in his new life – cleanliness, of course, but what else besides that. Hux’s comment left him flushed with an unfamiliar shame, “I apologise.”

Hux’s mouth was a hard line, “Don’t be like that. Go on now. Bath.”

Letting the shirt drop to the floor again, Kylo moved through to the adjacent bathroom and turned on the taps. He let the bath fill part way before he lit the burner; he couldn’t stand a bath as hot as Hux liked it. He wasn’t sure anyone could. Even with a meek temperature, the water made his cold limbs itch as he sank into it, careful not to slop any over the side.

It was very quiet in the bathroom, nought but the steady _plink_ of the dripping tap. Kylo sat with his knees to his chest, almost afraid to reach for the soap since every move he made seemed to reverberate around the white-tiled room. When he strained his ears, he could hear nothing from next door; it was possible that Hux had fallen asleep again, as it was still obscenely early, or that he was waiting for Kylo to be finished.

Slowly, he allowed himself to sink beneath the water, eyes and mouth shut tight. The tub was too small by far to fit himself all under, but even with his legs exposed to the chill, it was pleasant; the pseudo-sensation of weightlessness eased the ache of his battered body, if only a little, and the tendrils of his floating hair brushing his face reminded him that perhaps it actually had grown quite unkempt.

Then it was back again, that skin-prickling sensation of absolute scrutiny. Kylo opened his eyes beneath the water to see Hux leaning over him, a blade in hand. He quickly sat up, spluttering a little from taking a gasp of water. What he had mistaken for a knife was actually a razor, though steel was steel, sharp and true, and Kylo’s initial jab of panic was not soothed. Hux pressed his thumb to the edge.

“Just testing it’s sharp enough,” Hux said, examining the line it left. He had a soap cup and brush on one knee, a towel on the other, “I wouldn’t want to hurt you.”

The grey light that struggled through the grimy window washed the blue out of Hux’s silk robe and the red from his hair, but it couldn’t dull the glint on the razor’s edge. Hux pressed on Kylo’s shoulder to guide him to lie against the end of the tub, then carefully folded the towel into a rectangle and laid it over his eyes. Kylo stayed as perfectly still as he possibly could, and let Hux brusquely lather his face. The soap was silky and softly scented, something herbal and clean that he couldn’t put his finger on but he knew to be Hux’s own.

He swallowed when the brush was set aside. He felt Hux shift a little closer to him, the brush of a loose silk sleeve against his chest. It took all his willpower not to flinch away at the first kiss of cold metal on his cheek. The strokes were slow, thorough, and Hux held him by his chin with such delicateness that Kylo felt as though he might bruise at the first stiff breeze – but all the gentle mindfulness the General could muster could not make Kylo relax by a single hair.

“You are awfully tense,’ Hux mused when Kylo instinctively pulled away from the sensation of the sharp edge whispering over the pulse point beneath his jaw, “Are you afraid my hand might slip?”

“No, General,” Kylo said, blinking into the darkness of the improvised blindfold, “Not slip.”

Hux laughed, and the breath of it ghosting against Kylo’s cheek raised the hair of his arms almost as much as the steel that bit into his thin skin as he pressed a little harder, just for a second. Was this it? Was the offense of sleeping in Hux’s bed unbidden grave enough to prove fatal? Hux had killed for less. Hux had killed for a conversation.

It was not so - or at least not yet. Hux removed the blade and rinsed it off in the cooling bath water, giving Kylo leave to pull off the towel. Hux took it, and wiped the residual soap from his now-smooth face with soft and kiss-like brushes. He smiled, showing far too many teeth for Kylo to feel so blessed by the gentle attention as he would normally.

“There, my love. Much better already.”


End file.
